


You’re Everything I Wanted… And More

by sljae



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:37:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sljae/pseuds/sljae
Summary: Tessa and Scott are Canada’s premier singles skaters. This is their shared history.





	1. Your face lights up the sky in the highway

**Author's Note:**

> Each part of the story is prefaced by a line from the song “Balisong” by Rivermaya, a Filipino band. Link here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ci5J5fth2u8
> 
> The first chapter is entirely from Scott’s POV. The timeline is a little fuzzy because singles skaters’ careers seem to end at a younger age. So we’re around 2012-2013 in this timeline, post Vancouver but pre-Sochi.
> 
> Disclaimer: My knowledge of figure skating in all its forms is limited to bear with me on what what may be wrong. Also, obligatory statement about RPF and all that. I'm sorry Scott and Tessa. 
> 
> It's my first time uploading anything on this website so please bear with me. I would appreciate suggestions and/or feedback. It’s my first time to write fanfiction. Actually, this is my first attempt at fiction or story writing since high school so be gentle.

_**Your face lights up the sky in the highway** _

There’s that damned billboard again. I hate the fact that I have to pass by the one billboard in this city that they put up for her Nivea ad campaign on the very same route that I have to go through to get home from Gadbois. I hate the fact that no matter how hard I try, I could not even for one day be free of thinking about her or dreaming about her.

I take a couple of deep breaths to slow my heart. I think back to the day that it finally dawned on me that I had been so blind for so many years to what I should have accepted a long time ago. That there’s only one person that I’ve ever wanted. Her.

I finally get home to my apartment. Bone tired after a day of training, I grab myself a bottle of water and sort through my mail. Fan letters from all over Canada, bills that I have to remember to pay, invitations to various social functions.

I understand the pressures that come with being Canada’s top male figure skater. I’ve been basically it for the last eight years. Well, that’s not entirely true. Patrick Chan – Chiddy – certainly would have something to say about that. I’ve been one of it for the last eight years, Chiddy being the other one. To be fair, I do have the Olympic gold medal. But Chiddy has wrapped up four World titles against my three.

In my twenty-four years on this earth, I don’t think I’ve ever been as weary as I am now. And this includes that period in 2010 post-Vancouver where it seemed like there was nowhere in Canada I could go without being recognized, and there was nobody in Canada I could come across that didn’t want anything from me. No, I am definitely more tired now.

Maybe it’s my age. At twenty-four, I've been in this business for fourteen years now. Maybe it’s the stress that comes with training for the next quad and the added pressure of defending my gold medal. Maybe it’s that the post-Vancouver popularity doesn’t seem to want to wane. Maybe it’s that in the last four years or so I’ve been haunted by her.

I sigh and sit down on my couch and turn on the tv. And I don’t know what kind of sick me fate has decided to play on me but there she is on tv – Canada’s ice princess. The Olympic Gold Medalist. Three-time world champion. The most beautiful and elegant female figure skater of all time. The darling of every Canadian teenage girl. The dream that every Canadian mother hopes their kid would be one day. The fantasy for probably majority of the Canadian male and some of Canada’s female population.

I groan in frustration until I hear that there’s been some kind of bust up between her and her coach. It’s not really a surprise. There had been a lot of tension between them over the years. I just had no idea that it had become so serious.

I turn off the tv. I consider messaging her but the memory of our last conversation gives me pause. I don’t know that she’d want to hear from me right now. After what I now call The Great May 2012 Disaster, I don’t know why she would want to speak with me. That said, I can’t help but also think that even before life got complicated, she was my friend. If you’d asked her before May, she might have even said I was her best friend. Well that was before I messed it all up.

“Fuck it”, I whisper to the air. I pick up my phone and type out a quick message.

I _know I messed up. I know you might now want to hear from me right now. But I am here. Anytime. I’ll always be here for you._

I see three dots on top of my screen and hold my breath. Blink blink blink. Stop. She never answers back.

 

_**Someday you’ll share your world with me, someday** _

“Have you heard the news?”

I looked up from my phone as Chiddy sat down beside me on the boards. I had just finished going through my short program in training and was answering emails when Chiddy, my arch rival and my best decided to disturb me with news that apparently, could not wait.

“Tessa Virtue had a huge bust up with Marina. She’s finally leaving Canton.”, he says.

Chiddy is one of the few people who actually knows what had gone down between me and Tessa. Well, knows most but not all of it. I couldn’t help the fact that I have crazy expressive eyebrows. And I know for sure Chiddy saw my first reaction before I could successfully bury my initial reaction with a practiced nonchalance.

“It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. They’d not really been on good terms for over a year now.”, I replied, hopefully smoothly.

I know I’m not fooling him though. He’d known me for far too long. And despite the fact that we’re each other’s main rival, for some reason, we had always been great friends. Friends enough to be each other’s sounding board whenever we ran into any kind of trouble, whether it’s related to skating or our personal lives. Friends enough that even though we share the same coach, Patrice Lauzon, it never got awkward or complicated. Friends enough that he was the one who dragged me home every single night from the pub and listened to me rant and rave about my utter stupidity the week after the great disaster.

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me. But I ‘accidentally’ passed by Marie France’s office this morning, well before anyone got here.”, he says. Marie France, is Patrice’s wife. Together they share many of Canada’s men’s and women’s national skating titles. They also run this school together as co-coaches and choreographers.

“Anyway,” he continues, “She was on the phone with someone. And I think I may have heard hear say, and I quote, ‘Of course you’re welcome to come here, Tessa. I would love to coach you.’”

This time, I know my face is a dead giveaway. Doesn’t matter though. I don’t care. All that matters is that she’s coming here. Shit.


	2. You mesmerize me with diamond eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the headers of each chapter come from the lyrics of "Balisong" by Rivermaya, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ci5J5fth2u8
> 
> This chapter is still from Scott's POV. 
> 
> I'm having trouble with the formatting so forgive me if it seems inconsistent or off. I'm going to try to learn more.

**_You mesmerize me with diamond eyes_ **  

            I don’t really know why I am so shook by the news that she’s coming to Gadbois. I know she’s close to Marie France and Patch. We all are – the next generation of Canada’s skaters. Marie France and Patch were Canada’s golden couple until our ranks came up ushering in what they are calling the golden era of Canadian figure skating. Between myself, Tessa and Chiddy in singles, Megan and Eric in pairs, and Kaitlyn and Andrew in ice dancing, we’re dominating the international skating scene. And all of us were at some point in our careers were taken under the wing of Marie France and Patch, either as an actual coach like me and Chiddy or as friends and mentors for the rest. In Tessa’s case, I knew for a fact that she and Marie France speak to each other on the phone once a week at least. I know because Tessa and I used to talk to each other on the phone at least once a week too. 

 

              So I’ve known for a while that Tessa and Marina haven’t been on good terms. And based on what she told me in our many conversations before the disaster, she had been unhappy with Marina for a while now. What had initially started out as a great relationship had soured when Tessa started noticing that Marina was favoring her main rival at Canton. While I always thought it in the back of mind, I never said it out loud that it may have something to do with the fact that after the Vancouver Olympics, Tessa broke up with Marina’s son who she dated for a while. It also didn’t help that Fedor, the guy, then started dating Meryl – Tessa’s rival.

   

          I really should have seen this coming. But the truth is, I had tried my hardest to stop paying attention to what’s been going on with her. Not since May. Not since that night.

 

             A week goes by and it seems like Gadbois is all in a frenzy. The senior skaters act like it’s not a big deal, but I know they’re all either excited at the thought of training with the great Tessa Virtue, or intimidated by the thought of having to train in front of the great Tessa Virtue. The juniors have become extra giggly it seems at the prospect of having their ultimate idol and girl-crush come to train with us.

   

        The boys are the worst. Not that I can blame them. I see them passing around photos of Tessa that were taken for a health magazine. I try to tell the ones who are kind of like little brothers to me that women are more than just bodies and that they should be respectful. Not that it matters. They'll do it because only a blind man can't see that she is stunning. Truth is, whatever pervy stuff that they can come up with when it comes to her, I’ve probably thought worse.

 

           On Friday night, I drive home passing by that blasted billboard again. I can’t help it, I do stare. And even though it’s just a photo, I can’t help it. I can still get lost in those beautiful green eyes.

 

           She first came to Ilderton Skating Club in 1997. We were only kids when we first met. She was seven and I was nine. She’d come to Ilderton to learn how to skate. I was figure skating to hone my skating skills for hockey. At that time, I had no idea that I would end up giving up my dream of becoming a hockey star in favor of being a figure skater. I never thought that my dreams of scoring the winning goal to win the Stanley Cup would give way to dreams of landing quads at the Olympics.

  

          Tessa stayed for about five years at Ilderton being coached by my Aunt Carol. But her talent was so apparent at such a young age that she was recruited to train in Canton under the famed Russian coach, Marina Zoueva. In the years that she stayed in Ilderton though, we had become best friends.

 

            Once the figure skating bug bit me, it was no turning back. Within six months or so of Tessa coming to train regularly to Ilderton for figure skating, I gave up hockey and started training for figure skating full time as well. I can’t help but think sometimes that maybe even back then, I saw it as an opportunity to be always around this girl who I had grown to be very fond of.

 

            She was quite shy when she first came. Always prim and proper. She was quiet and barely engaged with anyone. She would only really talk with my Aunt Carol and her mom and I remember even as a young boy feeling bad for her.

   

         Ilderton Skating Club was like as second home to me. I knew most of the kids who went there. And I’d always been outgoing an outgoing kid. So after ten months of her being the loneliest girl out on the rink, I, one day, out of some impulse I cannot explain to this day skated up to her, took her hand and started going around on the rink with her.

 

           After initially tensing up, probably surprised at my actions and unsure of what had just happened, I felt her squeeze my hand and relax into my hold. She smiled that shy, sweet smile at me. I had turned ten by this time but harbored no feelings other than the sheer joy of making another friend. How could I have known then that that very same smile, in ten years time would floor me every single time I saw it.

 

            “Hey Tess”, I say.

 

             “Um… hi”, she replies.

 

            “Is this okay? Skating around with me for a bit?”

 

            “Um… yes. It’s nice to have someone out here with me. It gets kind of lonely sometimes.”

 

            “That’s because you don’t seem to make any friends here. Why is that?”, I ask.

 

            “I don’t know. It seems like everyone knows each other already. I don’t want to intrude.”

 

            “You’re shy.”, I say. “That’s okay. We’re a fun bunch. We don’t bite.”

 

            “Sometimes I wish I could just do pairs or ice dance instead. At least I won’t be alone on the ice all the time.”, she replies.

 

            “Huh, me too.”

 

            She looks at me with surprise. “What?”, I say.

 

            “It’s just that you always seem so confident out here. You’re so sure of yourself whenever I see you. Plus, you don’t seem to have any trouble making new friends.”, she replies.

 

            “I don’t know. It just seems so much fun to be sharing this experience with someone else you know. To have a friend out here with you.”

 

            “So why don’t you do it then?”, she asks.

 

            I look at her and we both say it at the same time. “Jumps.”

 

            “Yeah, I love the jumps too much. My dream is to land a quad axel and win the Olympics”, I say.

 

            “Same. Not a quad maybe, but a triple.”, she replies.

 

            We smile at each other as we continue to lap around the rink. This was the first of hundreds of times that we would end up doing this. Every single day that week that we saw each other, I would take time out to come up next to her, take her hand and skate around the rink with her. We would talk. She would tell me about how she had dreamed of becoming a ballerina. I would tell her about my aborted dreams of becoming an NHL star. She would tell me about her older brothers and sister. I would tell her about my two older brothers who I hero-worshipped. She would tell me about the books that she loved reading. I would tell her about what new adventures me and my friends would get into during non-training days.

 

           Our time skating together grounded us both. It gave us time to talk and share our thoughts and feelings. While Tessa eventually did warm up and became friends with the other kids at Ilderton, she and I shared a special bond. I also looked forward to spending time with her because she listened to me and made me feel like I wasn’t just some stupid kid. She on the other hand followed me around Ilderton, like a little sister, or so I thought. She had become close with my brothers as well and we always made sure that she was included in whatever we had going on at the rink.

 

            By late 1999, more than two years after Tessa started skating at Ilderton she and I had become inseparable whenever she came to train at the rink. One night, I told my mom, that we should just adopt Tessa. She was around so much she’s become like the fourth Moir kid. My mom just shook her head and laughed. I ask her why and she says, “Oh honey, Tessa doesn’t think you’re like her brothers.”

 

            “What do you mean?”

 

            “I mean that Tessa has a crush on you, Scott. That’s why you have to be kind to her.”

 

            “Ewww. But she’s just a kid. She’s like nine!”, I reply. I think back to all the times that Tessa has hung out with us and realize the truth of my mom’s words. Since I started skating with her, she has indeed kind of followed me around a lot. I know she listened to me carefully whenever I talk. But now I see that she does it with attention so rapt it could only be because she does have a crush on me.

 

. "No she's almost eleven and you're almost a young man. All I'm saying is that you should be careful with her.", my mom replies. 

            It’s not that I don’t like Tessa. I do. I really do like her. But she’s like the kid that I take care of not the object of romantic affection. Besides, at twelve, I don't really think about girls that way. The day after my mom told me that Tessa had a crush on me, I take her hand and skate with her just like that very first day. But like that impulse that made me grab her hand and skate with her that first day, for some reason, I felt compelled to act on my mom's words from the night before and do something again.

 

            “You want to become my girlfriend?”, I ask her breathlessly the as we skate around in circles again as has become tradition. My older brothers Danny and Charlie had had girlfriends. So I thought since I already knew Tessa liked me, I might as well make her my girlfriend.

 

            She almost stumbles in surprise, but I steady her with my other hand. She stays quiet. The other kids around the rink are screaming and laughing at something or the other, but we skate around in companiable silence.

 

            “Yes.”, she finally says, smiling shyly at me.

 

            “Great!”, I say. And then silence once more. _That was easy_ , I thought to myself. _But now, I don’t know what to say to her._

 

            When we see each other the next day, we skate around again as with the day before. We don’t talk though. It’s like I've lost my tongue and become shy around her. She doesn't seem to know what to say to me either. We aren't able to say anything to each other anymore. It’s like I silenced our friendship by making us be in a relationship. I spent the week being miserable that I couldn’t seem to talk to my best friend anymore. A week after, I couldn't take the silence any longer. I took her hand once more and ask.

 

            “You want to break up?”

 

            She almost stumbles again in surprise. She quietly asks, “Do you not like me?”, her voice breaking.

 

            “No. No. Not that at all.”, I say grabbing both her hands in mine. “It’s just that we’re best friends Tess. But since I asked you to be my girlfriend, I couldn’t seem to talk to you anymore.”, I say earnestly.

 

            “Ok”, she says averting her eyes from my gaze.

 

            “Hey, hey.”, I say earnestly. “We’re still best friends, ok? Nothing changes that. We still hang out. You’re still my Tessa and I’m still your Scott, kiddo.”

 

            She takes a deep breath and says, “Ok.”

 

            I breathe a sigh of relief and start telling her about my concerns about the young kid whose name has started being mentioned as potentially the next big thing in Canadian men's figure skating – Patrick something or other.

           

            Another couple of years pass and it seems like nothing has changed and everything has changed all at the same time. Tessa and I keep joining competitions and we both keep on winning. She especially gets a lot of attention and one day I overhear my mom and Aunt Carol talk about some Russian woman wanting to train Tessa.

 

            I turn fourteen and I make a ton of new friends who pull me away from Tessa. I’ve also started noticing girls, and they have started noticing me. I make sure that I always have time for my best friend though. Even when my friends tease me, every single day that we see each other, I still take Tessa’s hand and we skate around the rink together.

 

            The day that she told me that she was leaving for Canton, I held her hand as we skated around the rink while she cried. I told her it was for the best. That for her to fulfill her dreams, she needed this change. That at just shy of thirteen, she could do this. She could move to another country and train with a foreign coach. I tell her that Canton is barely three hours away. Her mom, who was moving with her, would definitely drive her home to London on weekends. I'm not even twenty minutes away in Ilderton, so we’ll surely still each other still every once in a while.

 

             I myself had no idea that barely six months later I would be moving to Montreal. We’d be ten hours away from each other instead of three - sealing our fate of no longer being able to see each other even during weekends. That afternoon though, I was still brimming with hope that not everything was going to change. But for some reason, I also was filled with a sense of dread knowing everything was going to change. With each lap we made, my heart continued to break. With each lap we made, I continued to hold her hand while her tears flowed.

 

              So, there we were, skating together as we had done for the past four years, round and round we went with me holding her hand knowing that we were about to say goodbye to this tradition. Tessa was moving to Canton tomorrow and this was her last day at Ilderton. I was supposed to go home thirty minutes ago but I couldn’t seem to let her go. Round and round we went until I hear a voice bellow from the boards, “Scott!”. I look over and see my brother waving at me.

 

            “I have to go.”, I tell her reluctantly.

 

            “It has been nice skating with you, Scott.”, she says as I let her hand go. It’s then that I really see it for the first time. Her eyes. Gorgeous green eyes. Eyes wet with unshed tears. Eyes that will haunt me for a long time.

 

 

**_I try to fool myself to think I’ll be alright_ **

 

            Monday morning comes and I feel like a new man. I took the weekend off from training. I try to turn off any and all thoughts of Tessa coming to Gadbois. I stop checking my messages obsessively. I skype with my mom and dad on Saturday. My brother Danny, his wife and their kid transit through Montreal Airport on Sunday. I met with them briefly and kept on getting peppered with kisses by my niece.

 

            It also helps that I went out on a date on Saturday night. I got a kiss and a little more from my on again, off again, friend with benefits, Cassandra. She’s fun. She laughs at my jokes. And she doesn’t seem to mind that I’m a little distracted. I feel bad that I essentially used her so I could forget about the girl that I couldn’t get. Part of me knows however that she’s also just using me too. So, I guess we’re even that way.

 

            I get out of my car into the nice crisp air of July in Montreal. It's still dark out as I walk into the rink and into the men’s changing room ready to take on the day. It’s an exciting day as well. We’re finalizing choreography into this season’s short program. And I’m feeling good about it. We’ll probably be able to run through the whole thing today.

 

            I hum to myself as I lace up my skates. It’s still quiet as I’m usually the earliest of all the skaters to come in. I don’t mind the early starts. I’m naturally a morning person anyway so I don’t mind the five a.m. wake up times. I like that I usually get an hour or so where I’m the only person in the whole building. I like that I get to choose my space in the dressing rooms because nobody's there yet. I like that I can blast my own music in the speakers without being heckled for my usual choice of country music. Even though I’m an extrovert, I also like these quiet moments where I can just be with myself and my thoughts. Where I don't have to interact with the people who have essentially become my family. 

 

            When I first moved to Montreal in the fall of 2002, I never thought that I could find a family the way that I had back home in Ilderton – where majority of the skating club seemed to actually be my family. It's been almost ten years since I made the move here. Since I left my family and friends. I think back to what I told Tessa when she left for Canton, about the move being for the best. I remember my despondency when my mom told me that it would be the best decision for my career in the long term if I moved here. I’ve made great friends though. I immediately got along with the other juniors who trained at Gadbois. And coaches were were just the best. They were warm and kind but also amazingly technical. Patrick came about three years after I got here and almost became my substitute Tessa albeit without having a crush on me and without having the green eyes that I can’t believe took me five years to notice.

 

            Despite being here for almost a decade, I still struggle with French much to Patch and Marie France’s chagrin. But I’ve made a good home here. After seven years of living with host families and sharing houses with other skaters, my popularity after the Vancouver games gave me enough money to finally buy a place of my own. It’s a small place but I love it. I’m near great pubs and restaurants – places that remind me of home not like the chichi and hipster places that pepper the entirety of this city. My neighbors are great. Young couples and families on starter condos. I always have someone I can grab a quick beer with. And there’s never a shortage of young single women out for a good time. It’s perfect for a young man in his early twenties at the best time of his life.

 

             I finish up my preparations and get ready to go out into the ice. I put in my earphones and play some music. I grab my water bottle and walk out. I’m so engrossed in my thoughts and the music playing in my ears that it took me a while before I saw her. Gliding across the ice, like a fairy, angel, goddess, whatever. Gliding across the ice like only she could.

 

              I have to blink a couple of time to make sure I’m not imagining her. But here indeed she is. On my ice.

 

              Despite the knowledge that she's moving here, I still am shocked at the sight of her. It’s not like I didn’t know that she was coming. I guess I’ve been successful at my attempt to stop obsessing about her so much. I just didn’t expect that I’d see her this early and without anyone else around yet.

 

              Unlike me, Tessa is not a morning person. She doesn’t warm up until mid-morning. Even then, you should only really talk to her when she’s had coffee. That’s why I thought that she would schedule her training a little later on in the morning, which was perfect for me in that I would have to spend minimal time with her on the ice. For some reason however, here she was bright and early. My once peaceful five am pre-training ritual was about to be shattered. But right now, I don’t care. I just stare.

 

             I step quietly to the side, just before the boards. In my mind I think, _don’t be a creeper lurking in the shadows._ I can’t help it though, she looks so beautiful out there. Every movement that she makes is absolutely stunning. The way she raises her arms, the way she rolls her neck, the way she extends her legs when she spins. She goes to the boards to drink some water and I decide to stop being a creep.

 

            “Hey”, I say as I step onto the ice.

 

            She turns around at my voice and I am arrested by those eyes again. “Scott.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how hard writing a story is. It might take me a little longer to get the next chapter up as I'm also trying to write longer chapters. 
> 
> Again, if you ever find this Scott, Tessa or any of your families, I apologize.


	3. But I am Losing All Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honestly, I just want to make sure you’re ok. I just want to know if you’re happy.”, I reply.
> 
> “Happy? This entire situation is supposed to make me happy? Well I’m not. How could I be?”, she answers back. “I’m barely two months away from High Performance Camp. I have no programs in the pipeline. I left what was essentially my home and family for the last ten years. And two months ago, I had a best friend but he broke my heart and then disappeared from my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Our final one from Scott's POV, for a while at least.
> 
> 2\. Sorry for the long absence. About 80% of this chapter was written about two weeks ago but I just couldn't get through the last 20% until today. 
> 
> 3\. Still no beta so please forgive any mistakes. Also, still some formatting issues. Also, there's a psychologist scene here. I am not a psychologist, if there are any professionals around, please forgive me.

**_But I am losing all control_ **

“Hey, Tess. How’ve you been?”, I finally reply after what seems like an eternity of holding my breath.

 

            She averts her gaze looking near where the entrance is.

 

            “Nobody else around yet?”, she asks.

 

            “Nah. I’m usually the first one in. Most of the seniors will come in an hour or so probably. The rest will trickle in through the morning.”

 

            “Oh”, she replies. Without another word, she skates away from me going back to doing her warm up.

 

            I remember that she never answered when I asked her how she was. I was starting to look like a fool just standing on the ice doing nothing though so I started skating my warm up laps, being mindful that I don’t run into her.

 

            We skate around in silence, just the sounds of our blades cutting through ice for the next thirty minutes or so. I go through my usual routine, practicing small portions of my programs, trying to nail each one before moving on to the next. I try to concentrate and focus. My day has been disrupted enough. I don’t want to veer further away from my routine. No matter how hard I try though, my eyes kept getting drawn to her. I look at her and I feel like my heart would explode.

 

            The first time I saw Tessa again after she left Ilderton for Canton and I left for Montreal, was at Junior Nationals 2003. She had just turned thirteen and was in her first year of eligibility for the event. I had already medaled the year before, just a bronze, but I’ve progressed even further in the past year that my coach has said that if I skate both my programs cleanly, then I’m more or less a lock for the gold.

 

             I’ve been eagerly anticipating her arrival. So instead of hanging out with the other kids in the locker room, I was sitting on the floor just five meters from the entrance to the arena, waiting. When she and her mom finally entered the arena in Saskatoon, I immediately ran to her and almost knocked her over in my haste to hug her. “Scott! Put me down. I can’t breathe”, she says while laughing at me.

 

             “I’ve missed you so much, kiddo.”, I say breathing in her scent as I hug her close.

 

             “I’ve missed you so much too.” This time it’s her that hugs me tightly. She reluctantly lets me go after what feels like forever. Not that I mind. I don’t mind it all.

 

              She walks beside me as we enter further into the building. She rests her head on my shoulder and whispers, “I hate when things change. I’ve been so miserable having to move to a new place and having to make new friends.”

 

              I pull her hand so we can sit on the stands to catch up. Her mom tells her they need to register, but that she’s giving us an hour to talk while she settles their stuff at the hotel next door.

 

              I spend the next thirty minutes just listening to her. She rants about how miserable she was the entire drive down to Canton that first day. She tells me how she and her mom had to share a room in their first month there because the initial housing they had set up fell through so they ended up renting a one bedroom apartment before they were able to find something more suitable. She tells me about her new coach. How brilliant Marina Zoueva is and how far she’s progressed in her spins and jumps. She tells me that Marina’s choreography is so good that she feels whenever she’s doing footwork that she’s dancing on ice. But then she tells me how cold and distant Marina is compared to the coaches at home. That Marina was not averse to shouting at her and seemed to have a never-ending supply of harsh words. That she had to learn to adjust to being constantly compared to other skaters, including Marina’s star American pupil before she arrived at Canton, Meryl. That at first it was a shock to her how strict Marina was. But then she finally got used to it.

 

              She tells me about the other juniors at Canton. That while they’re all good, there’s only three pupils that shine. One of them is her, she tells me matter-of-factly, not boastfully, but secure in the truth of it. The other one is a guy, Charlie White. I’ve encountered him at Junior Worlds last year. He’s American. I don’t think he’s all that special, but I hold my tongue. The other one is the aforementioned Meryl Davis, who Tessa tells me is her main rival.

 

             Her life in Canton is miserable. She says that all of the other juniors had been there for at least a year so they’ve all become friends. Tessa, who had been already painfully shy, just couldn’t break through. She continues to lay her head on my shoulder and says she wishes she could just move to Montreal with me.

 

             The memory jogs me back to reality and the realization that she’s had to do it all over again. Just like when she left for Canton, she’s had to pack up her entire life, move to a new place and make new relationships all over again. She’s left ten years of her life behind. And just as I had made my family here in Montreal, I am sure that the same is true with her in Canton. Factor in the fact that she’s an introvert, she would have had made a small group of friends there, but they would have been very close. That she had to leave that and start all over again gives me pause.

 

              Much as I still felt the awkwardness of talking to her, I realize that I can feel the sadness emanating from her. I realize this situation could quickly become untenable. We can’t go on like this. Like we’re total strangers when we’re the furthest thing from being strangers. And she needs a friend. Whatever it is that may have happened to drive us apart, I did tell her that I’ll always be here for her. So, I should be here. I should be a friend. I take a deep breath and decide to try again.

 

           “So, you never answered my question.”, I say.

 

           “Huh?”, she says spinning around to look at me.

 

            “I asked earlier. How have you been?”

 

            She gets a confused look on her face. Like she doesn’t know if I’m being serious. “Fine.”, she finally replies.

 

            I try to temper my bubbling anger at her reticence to actually engage. “Bullshit. You’re not fine, Tess. We may not have been speaking for months now, but I still do know you. And you’re not fine.”

 

            “Why’d you ask then?”

 

             I stop, unable to answer. _Why was I pushing her to answer?_

 

             “Honestly, I just want to make sure you’re ok. I just want to know if you’re happy.”, I reply.

 

              “Happy? This entire situation is supposed to make me happy? Well I’m not. How could I be?”, she answers back. “I’m barely two months away from High Performance Camp. I have no programs in the pipeline. I left what was essentially my home and family for the last ten years. And two months ago, I had a best friend but he broke my heart and then disappeared from my life.”

 

              I open my mouth to answer her but I’m prevented from doing so by sounds coming from the entrance to the rink. Tessa closes her eyes as if willing back the tears that are threatening to fall. I have barely processed her words when I hear the sound of Chiddy’s voice chatting with Marie France. They see us on the ice and immediately, Marie France looks at me.

 

             Marie France became my coach five years ago, right after she and Patch retired and started coaching at Gadbois. It was fortuitous that I was finally done with juniors and was moving on the senior ranks when they decided to coach full time. I was the first skater that they coached so I know that even though they’ll never play favorites, they do have a soft spot for me. This also means however, that I, more than any other skater under their tutelage, am treated like the eldest son. Their expectations of me are higher. Their treatment of me may be a little harsher. But I am also the one they consider family the most.

 

              In all my years with Marie France, I have learned two things. First, she is the sweetest and kindest woman I know next to my mother. Second, if I cross her, there will be hell to pay. As she assesses the situation – Tessa fighting back tears while standing in front of me in the middle of the ice - the look she gives me promises a quick and fast retribution if I don’t do anything. So I do the only thing I could. I turn around, and skate away from Tessa.

 

 

**_My mind, my heart, my body and my soul_ **

 

            “Look, I know we kind of blindsided you with all of this, and we are partly at fault for not really talking to you and making sure you’re okay that Tessa’s here.”, says Patch. It’s been four days since Tessa and I’s first encounter on the ice. Since then, I’ve studiously avoided her. We’re still the first two skaters to come in the mornings. But we never say a word to each other. The impasse is only broken when the other skaters finally come in. Whereas I’ve never looked forward to that happening before, the arrival of the other skaters at the rink now feels like salvation.

 

            It’s been a shitty training week. I can’t seem to land the simplest of triples. I faceplant or bail anytime I attempt a quad. My mind is distracted and my coaches had had enough.

 

            I look at Patch and Marie France sitting together in the couch in front of me. They’ve finally called me into their office for a “team meeting”, our first in a couple of weeks.

 

            Marie France, her gaze soft looks me straight in the eye and says, “Scott, I have to apologize. We should have talked with you. I don’t want you to ever think that we don’t care for your feelings or that we are prioritizing Tessa’s well-being over yours.”

 

            She looks so miserable that I immediately lose my hostile demeanor. Patch and Marie France have been nothing but kind and good to me all these years. I should learn how to be the same to them.

 

            “Hey,” I answer, grabbing her hand, which she was wringing in obvious distress, “You took Tessa in because she was in a bad situation. She was in need of a coach and since the Vancouver Olympics, we all know that you guys have been pseudo-coaches to her anyway, or at least since her relationship with Marina started crumbling.”

 

            Marie France squeezes my hand, as if to thank me for understanding. Patch pats my knee and breathes a sigh of relief that this whole thing hasn’t damaged our relationship.

 

            “What we need now is a plan on how we can work with the both of you.”, Patch says.

 

            Marie France, who hasn’t let go of my hand grabs my other one and squeezes them both. “Scott, I know something happened between you and Tessa last May.”

 

            At this, I hold my breath, afraid of what she was going to say.

 

            “I don’t know the details of it. She never told me what exactly happened. But I know that she called me one day, crying her heart out saying that she’s damaged everything beyond repair.”, she continues.

 

            “I’m…”

 

            “Scott, you don’t have to tell me anything”, she interrupts. “I am concerned about one thing only. That is, skating. I want you both to succeed. I want you both to be happy. You can sort your personal issues by yourselves. You are both adults and we expect you to act as such. Can you promise me at least that you won’t let your personal problems interfere with your skating as well as Tessa’s?”

 

            “I… yes. I promise.” I say. Because whatever happens, I myself want to see her succeed. She’s way too talented and way too good to have whatever issues we may have from holding her back.

 

            “Good. I’m glad that’s sorted. Take tomorrow off. Rest and relax and sort your mental state out.”, Patch says as he stands up and gives me a hug. Marie France joins us and for a brief moment, I believe that everything’s going to be okay.

 

            That night, I go to a bar and drink myself blind. I wake up the next day with a pounding headache. I look over to my side and see long dark hair over a naked back. I sit up and hold my head in my hands.

 

            “Hey, Scott.”

 

            She sits up and looks at me expectantly.

 

            “Umm.. hi”, I say as I try to wrack my brain for a name.

 

            “Kaitlyn”, she helpfully supplies.

 

            “I’m sorry. I really don’t remember much from last night.”, I say, deciding honesty is the best course of action.

 

            “No worries. I figured as much when you called me by a different name as we were getting hot and heavy”, she says while laughing at my obvious discomfort. “Don’t worry, nothing happened. I couldn’t go through with it after you’d called me Tessa thrice. And then you kind of fell asleep. It was late and I was sleepy so I hope you don’t mind that I stayed.”

 

            “No.. I’m sorry. Seriously. I’m not that kind of guy. At least I thought I wasn’t anymore.”, I apologize.

 

            “As I said, no worries, hey.”, she says as she climbs out of bed, naked except for a pair of panties.

 

            I avert my eyes as she picks up her clothes from the floor and start putting them on. After a couple of minutes, she walks over to my side of the bed, picks up my hand and writes on my palm.

 

            “That’s my number. When you’re done with drowning your sorrows in whiskey over that girl, Tessa, you can call me here.”

 

            “Thanks.”, is all I can say as she leaves my room. I hear my front door close. I stand up and go to the bathroom. I run the hottest shower I could stand. I rub the number off my palm.

 

            After my shower, I make a phone call to my therapist.

 

            Thankfully, JF, my therapist has free time in the afternoon so we set an emergency meeting then. I arrive promptly for our 3 pm appointment.

 

            “So why the emergency, Scott? I know we’re supposed to meet in a couple of days. I’m curious as to what has happened since our last appointment that couldn’t wait.”, he asks.

 

            “I tried to sleep with a girl last night while I was apparently drunk out of my mind. She says I kept calling her Tessa. This week has been the worst training week I’ve had ever. And I’m pretty sure that all of that goes back to the fact that it’s because out of the blue, I’m having to train with Tessa.”

 

            “Okay, let’s unpack this. First, you’ve been training with Tessa for the last, what four, five days?”, he asks. I nod to answer him.

 

            “How has that been like?”

 

            “We may have exchanged some harsh words. After that, we haven’t talked to each other.”

 

            “At all?”

 

            “Yep, not one word.”

 

            “And that has affected you, how?”

 

            “The truth is, I can’t stand it. I can’t deal with the idea that she’s in pain and I might be adding to it. I also can’t deal with the fact that she’s around me every single day and it’s distracting me.”

 

            “Why are you distracted?”

 

            “It feels like all my life, all I’d wanted was for Tess to be happy. When we were teenagers, when I finally saw her not just as a little kid or a sister, it was the toughest time I’ve ever had. As we got older, I couldn’t navigate that narrow stream between caring for her and falling for her. But all through that time, I feel like the only thing that I ever wanted, whether she was with me or not, was for her to be happy.”

           

            “You said that you feel like that’s the only thing you ever wanted. There’s a big difference between feeling something and acting it. Have you always acted in a manner that would make her happy?”

 

            I pause at this, guilty in the knowledge that while I may have always mentally wanted her to be happy, I also acted selfishly a lot of times either out of jealousy or spite, over the years of our friendship. The rest of the session was basically JF making me realize that despite my best intentions, I haven’t been acting the way that I ought to be.

 

            The next day, I get back to the rink with the full intention of being civil to Tessa. To try to at least build something rather than stick with the nothing that we’re facing now. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll try to ignore her as best as I could. It seems like that that plan is working for her anyway, and if that is what makes her happy then I’ll go with it.

           

            She’s already at the rink when I enter. She’d set up her phone on the speaker system and it blasts some of her old school, old person music as she practices her spins. Immediately hightail it to the dressing room. I put on my skates, take a deep breath and then go out and join her on the rink.

 

            “Hey Tess.”, I say in the lightest most friendly way I could muster.

 

            She looks at me cautiously as if unsure of herself and says, “Hey…”.

 

            Uncertain about anything, I nevertheless was determined to tell her how I felt, so I took a deep breath and spoke.

 

            “I don’t want to hurt you, Tess. All I want… all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. If being here is what makes you happy, then damn all of these things that might get in the way of that. Even me. If I’m in the way of you reaching your dreams and becoming who you ought to be, who you were meant to be, then damn me. I just want you to be in a good place. And if this is that place then I’m happy. If you’re happy then I am too. Whatever else happened between us, that will never change.”

 

            I don’t expect what happens next because the next thing I know, she skates up to me and takes my hand.

 


End file.
